


(it's absolutely not) too late to apologize

by SyntheticRevenge



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Post-Season/Series 01, Probably definitely canon divergent but who knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22165261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SyntheticRevenge/pseuds/SyntheticRevenge
Summary: “Don’t you have something to say to me?” Jaskier asks, cocking his head, closing an eye, and squinting with the other.“What?”“Two word phrase? Very common among people with both friends and emotions, so it might be a bit foreign to you. First word starts with ‘I’, second with ‘S’, those are your only hints.”(Jaskier is both a bitch and a pushover and Geralt is just so very tired)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 517
Collections: Best Geralt





	(it's absolutely not) too late to apologize

**Author's Note:**

> This is a dumb thing I wrote just because I, like everyone else, would desperately love Geralt to apologize for episode 6. I'm sure it's canon divergent but eh. Hope y'all enjoy!

Geralt spent at least half his day tracking a Devourer from fleshless corpse to fleshless corpse and got a chunk taken out of his thigh for the trouble, as well as a steely glare from the ealderman, who tried to underpay him. It’s not been a good one, and he’s glad Ciri’s not with him anymore, that she’s somewhere warmer, less damp, and better smelling than he. 

He limps into the town’s surprisingly lavish tavern, ready to drink until he can’t smell himself anymore. There’s a somewhat haunting song drifting out the door when he pushes through it, something about a gold dragon, and a familiar scent, and Geralt can’t help but give a quick glance towards the bard.

He hisses a ‘fuck’ through his teeth and tries to turn around slowly, unnoticeably. He doesn’t want Jaskier to see him. He just wants to get very drunk and sleep and not think anymore. He turns to leave as the music stops, somewhat abruptly, and Jaskier’s voice cuts through the noise of the crowd. Geralt is at least impressed by the man’s ability to command attention.

“Oh, everyone, we have a  _ legend  _ in our midst tonight! Won’t everyone say hi to the White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia? Buy him a drink, even, he’ll be appreciative,” Jaskier calls, but his voice is cold and biting as he starts to play Toss A Coin To Your Witcher.

“Butcher,” someone spits as they slam hard into Geralt, vodka sloshing onto his bite wound. He winces and goes to sit down. Night’s already been irreparably fucked, thanks, bard, and he’s not in the mood to ride to the next town. 

The song ends and Jaskier stops playing altogether. Geralt can’t help but look over at him, beaming, surrounded by people buying him drinks. The smile’s fake. His heart’s not in it. Geralt can tell the difference with him. Jaskier’s eyes meet his across the room and he looks away, quickly.

Geralt sighs heavily, rolls his shoulders, and stands up, downing the rest of whatever high-octane striga piss they sell here. He goes over to Jaskier, and the people around him clear out, giving Geralt the usual range of scared-to-lustful looks. Geralt sits down, and Jaskier pointedly looks away from him.

“Bard,” Geralt says, in the least unkind tone he can muster.

“The price of admission for talking to a star such as myself is alcohol, and lots of it,” Jaskier says, still not looking at him.

“Hmm. Seems fair,” Geralt says, lip twitching a little. He goes to stand up again, but his wound seems to be worse than he gave it credit for, and his leg buckles. He falls hard back into his seat, and the noise makes Jaskier look at him, and then at his leg.

“Oh,  _ oh _ , what  _ happened _ to you?” Jaskier asks, looking back up at him with wide, concerned eyes. “That’s disgusting.”

“Devourer bite. It’s fine. I’ll heal,” Geralt says through gritted teeth. 

“Hurts?” Jaskier asks, hand hovering over the wound.

“Mmm.”

“I would love-- _ love _ \--to be the kind of person that would stick a finger in it right now. That’s the kind of person you like. But, alas, I’m a good man, and would  _ never _ hurt a hero such as yourself,” Jaskier says, tearing the bottom of his shirt and tying the strip of cloth around the wound. “ _ And _ I’ll even buy you a drink, seems like you need it, but you fucking owe me, witcher.”

“I’d pay, but your song’s stopped working so well.”

“Ah yes, my fault again, like everything else,” Jaskier says, standing up abruptly and not looking at Geralt. “I’ll be back with drinks.”

Geralt closes his eyes and focuses on levelling his breathing. It’s not quite meditation but it feels like he’s only just blinked when Jaskier sits back down and downs a fairly large tankard of something strong-smelling. Geralt does the same with his, eyebrows raised.

“Thanks,” Geralt says. “You okay?”

“I’m great, absolutely fucking amazing, did you know a court mage willingly sucked my cock a few months ago? Why did I ask that. Why would you know that. It wasn’t your precious Yennefer, don’t worry. My point is I’m doing very well and I’m not ruining everything and I don’t need you, who needs you,” Jaskier says in a single breath. 

“Uh. Alright,” Geralt says, nodding, eyes shifting in general discomfort with the situation. “I’m...glad?”

“Don’t you have something to say to me?” Jaskier asks, cocking his head, closing an eye, and squinting with the other.

“What?”

“Two word phrase? Very common among people with both friends and emotions, so it might be a bit foreign to you. First word starts with ‘I’, second with ‘S’, those are your only hints.”

“Jaskier, you seem--”

“No, that’s not part of it, starts with I, remember?” Jaskier says, crossing his arms. 

“Don’t play games, what do you want?” Geralt asks, a little frustrated, and Jaskier’s mouth hangs open a little, mouths something that looks like ‘you’, but he regains composure.

“I want you to say you’re sorry,” Jaskier says. “And because you’re you and I’m me, that’s all I need, and then this can be normal again, because I’ve missed you, and I’d bet you money you’ve missed me.”

“What am I apologizing for?”

“You’re apologizing because you hurt me quite badly during the whole dragon incident,” Jaskier says. 

“What did I do?”

“You don’t even remember?” Jaskier says, looking hurt, and the expression makes something in Geralt’s heart jolt. It’s not a feeling he’s a particular fan of. “That’s fine. I’m a storyteller. I can tell you  _ exactly _ what you said. You said ‘if life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands’.” He mimics Geralt fairly accurately for the last part, and Geralt’s heart twists more. Almost feels like shame.

“I...I  _ am _ sorry,” Geralt says, looking at the table. “Truly. I was having a bad day, and I--it was unfair of me.” 

“Thank you,” Jaskier says, and his eyes are welling.

“If you cry, I leave,” Geralt says, and Jaskier laughs. “I’m not joking, bard.”

“I know,” Jaskier says, smiling at him. “So, catch me up on your adventures. I hear your Child Surprise is becoming a witcher?”

“None of your business.” Geralt smiles tightly.

Jaskier starts singing, softly. “Some say the good princess Cirilla has all the wit of a chinchilla--”

Geralt gives him a look so withering he can almost see the breath freezing in Jaskier’s lungs. “I wouldn’t.”

Jaskier nods. “Understood. Moving on. Yennefer? You still see her?”

Geralt shrugs. “Sometimes.”

“Right, good, glad that she’s not a constant presence, since I’ll be travelling with you again,” Jaskier says, quickly, trying to rush it by Geralt.

“You’ll be doing what now?”

“Coming with you,” Jaskier says, smiling nervously. “See, it’s just that my inspiration’s been...well, dwindling without all of the adventure and excitement in my life.”

“Bedding a court mage wasn’t exciting enough?”

“No. Very disappointing, actually. Liked the trick where she magicked her own clothes off so I didn’t have to fumble around, but aside from that, very bland,” Jaskier says, shrugging. “I’ve been desperately searching for  _ something _ , believe me, but I suppose it’s just hard to go back to the simple life after you’ve traveled with the Butcher of Blaviken.”

Geralt sighs. “Fine.”

“Fantastic.” Jaskier’s nervous smile widens into a full-on beam. “Where are we headed? Any particular goal? Because there’s a party I’d like to--”

“Don’t push your luck, bard.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all feedback is much appreciated <3


End file.
